


À Tout le Monde

by NeuroWriter14



Series: Ways Back To You [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Do not repost, Episode: s02e10 Naka-Choko, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Will Realizes Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26273917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeuroWriter14/pseuds/NeuroWriter14
Summary: Will is injured chasing a suspect.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Ways Back To You [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904167
Comments: 13
Kudos: 359





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> À Tout le Monde= Set me free

Will seemed to have a knack for finding the worst of the worst and antagonizing them. He remembered Clark Ingram. He remembered Randall Tier. Hell, there was Hannibal Lecter himself, the Chesapeake Ripper. And Will had found himself tangled with all of them. Ingram walked free and Peter was imprisoned for his crimes. Will had wanted to kill him, had wanted to punish him but Hannibal had stopped him. Then there was Tier who Will killed and then displayed. For them, it was an equal fight, a fight of instincts. Tier's instincts told him he was an animal, an apex predator trapped in a human body. He did his best to pull the animal from within himself and make it a reality. For Will, it was him fighting his darkest impulses and instincts. But when he didn't, when he embraced them, he was the one to walk away, not Tier. Hannibal was the worst of them all, yet the one he couldn't help but feel drawn to. Out of all of them, it was Hannibal Lecter who saw into his soul the best and still wanted more. And it was Hannibal who he could see the best and yet he still returned.

There were, however, other killers outside Hannibal Lecter and himself and one of them drew the attention of the BAU and thus Will himself. The woman behind the crimes had a knack for attempting to make art of her kills. A Chesapeake Ripper copycat. But she was sloppy. The organ removal was done by inexperienced hands and she left DNA at the crime scenes. It didn't take much to find her. And they had. Will chased her through the woods after she ran from her house. They hadn't yet had a chance to surround it on all sides, leaving her open to flee out the back door. They all chased her, hoping to trap her on all sides. Will was the closest, he followed her footsteps directly. She wasn't as fast as he was, but she was armed and Will didn't have a bulletproof vest. All it took was her turning around at just the right time. 

Will had been shot and stabbed before. He was stabbed in his shoulder when he was a cop, still working for the New Orleans Police Department. That wasn't a pleasant feeling. He was shot by Jack almost a year before after Will had come to the aching realization that Hannibal was the copycat and the one who framed him for his murders. He could barely feel that bullet over the fire in his brain and the realization of who exactly Hannibal Lecter was. It was only later that he realized the copycat and the Chesapeake Ripper were on and the same. That realization hurt more than the bullet. 

But these bullets hurt worse than either of his previous major injuries. Even his headaches weren't as bad as suddenly having his abdomen torn open. She had aimed low, a shaky hand from fear and exhaustion making her aim worse. She fired a total of three shots. One missed Will completely and he froze. Their eyes met. Idly, he couldn't help but compare her to Miriam Lass. Both had blonde hair but her eyes were a light blue, like the color of the morning sky, and they both were influenced by the Chesapeake Ripper. The second shot hit Will square in the stomach. His body didn't react right away though, he only vaguely understood that he had a hole in his abdomen. The second shot was more to the right, but still piercing his flesh. Time slowed down around him. Everything that happened next seemed to happen in slow motion.

He could feel the two wounds smarting, blood rushing from them. His own gun fell from his grasp and onto the cold snow. Will's knees gave out next, pain rocking through him. He wasn't even certain he was breathing anymore. It felt like someone had taken a hot poker to his intestines, spinning and twirling them like they were spaghetti. His arms came to the wounds, pressing against them. Some part of him knew logically that this was the better reaction. He could bleed out of he didn't put pressure on the wounds to stall the bleeding. Mentally, he categorized his body. He couldn't quite tell if the shot had been a through and through, but he did know that given the wound on his stomach, it might be more advantageous to fall on his back. He did. The moment his back hit the ground, pain exploded through his body.

He could feel it twitching of its own volition, wanting him to curl up on himself to prevent the pain. The same pain, however, pinned him in place. His hands pressed against the two wounds, balled into fists to increase the pressure. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, everything around him seemed to be muffled. He heard another gunshot and then yells. He looked up at the night sky above him, seeing stars stare back, uncaring. The trees seemed to stretch for an eternity above him, reaching for something he thought he might be his closest to reaching. He blinked, seeing someone else stand above him, someone who wasn't there. At first, it was the Ravenstag, staring down at him with dark eyes. Then it was the man. Eyes dark as the night sky stared at him, horns blending with the trees. For a moment, he thought they reached for him. Will's vision blackened around the edges, pain pressing in from all sides. He briefly saw Jack's face and then he faded.

There was only darkness.

* * *

Hannibal was woken up by a phone call in the early hours of the morning. It wasn't uncommon for him to receive calls at odd hours. Sometimes it was patients who desperately needed to talk, sometimes they needed to be talked down. But other times it was Jack Crawford asking him to assist on a case. Serial killers didn't have set schedules and neither did the discovery of their deeds. He sometimes wished they would coordinate though, it would make it easier to compartmentalize his day if he knew when he was going to be called for another murder. He flicked on the light next to his bed, blinking at the ringing phone.

It was Alana.

That was odd.

He sat up further in the bed and pulled his phone from its charger. He was able to glance at the time as he answered the call. It was 5 a.m.

"Hello, Alana," He greeted. 

He heard a sniff on the other end of the phone. Alana was crying. "H-Hannibal." Her voice was shaky. "Hannibal it's Will." 

Any drowsiness still left in his system at being woken up earlier than he intended was gone immediately. He straightened in the bed. 

"What happened?" His voice was no longer as cordial as when he answered.

Alana sniffed again and there was a muffled voice in the background. She answered them before returning to the phone.

"He was shot while chasing a suspect." She blew her nose lightly. "He was in surgery for hours." She sniffed again. "I don't know if- We don't know if-" Her voice gave out. 

Hannibal was on his feet in seconds. "Where is he?" 

She gave him the name of the hospital and he hung up without saying goodbye. 

He readied himself quickly, making mental notes of everything he had to do. Alana had neglected to state where Will was shot, but given that he had been in surgery for a while Hannibal assumed it was in the abdomen. His mind ran through all the ways he could potentially push Will's attacker when his mind reminded him that Will had been on a case when he was shot. It was likely the shooter was dead, especially given they had shot and FBI special agent. As he drove to the hospital, an hour's drive from his house, he called and left messages for his patients, letting them know he would be unable to see them today due to an emergency. And it was an emergency. Will was his emergency. 

When he arrived at the hospital, Alana was not in the waiting room. A quick text told him that she was in Will's room. Hannibal found it easily and entered to find Jack and Alana at Will's beside. Jack's reaction to his presence told Hannibal everything he needed to know as he wasn't quick to shield his sudden disdain at Hannibal's entrance. But he ignored it. He already knew what Jack thought of him and he didn't care. He didn't care about Jack, he didn't care about Alana. The only thing he cared about was lying unconscious in the bed. 

Will looked pale, deathly pale. Hannibal glanced at the monitor. Will's heart rate and oxygen were normal, but his blood pressure was slightly elevated. His abdomen was bandaged as Hannibal suspected. Other than the beep of the heart monitor, there was no noise in the room. Nothing to indicate that there was life. A pin could have dropped and it would have echoed like a cannon. Hannibal found a chair and sat at the edge of the bed by Will's feet. The three of them were silent, watching and waiting for Will to wake. 

Hours ticked by. Jack had to leave to check on Bella. 

There were two.

The sun began to dip low in the sky. Alana brought them food. Hannibal monitored the IV drip, the heart monitor, the pulse oximeter, the rise and fall of Will's chest. There was nothing to indicate that Will Graham was alive. He didn't move, he didn't twitch, his eyes were still behind his eyelids. 

The silence was deafening in Hannibal's ears. 

He left the room twice that day. Once to reschedule his patients' appointments for the rest of the week and again to use the restroom. Otherwise, he was in a god awful, uncomfortable chair at Will's side.

Night came and Alana stood.

"I'm going to take care of his dogs." She announced. Hannibal nodded his acknowledgment. "You should go home too, Hannibal. Get some sleep." 

"I'm not leaving." He itched to reach forward and grasp Will's hand, but he didn't dare while Alana and Jack were around. 

"Hannibal," She began to protest.

"I'm not leaving him." 

Something in his voice must have told her he wasn't going to debate it. He was staying right where he was. God could come from above and tell Hannibal to leave and he would stay in the same chair at Will's side. 

Alana left and he and Will were alone. 

Hannibal finally indulged the need to reach for him, grasping his hand. Will's other hand was mostly healed from his fight with Randall Tier, only some scabs on his knuckles were left. Will didn't move as Hannibal grasped his hand. 

Hannibal was terrified. This was terror. This was worry. These were emotions he hadn't felt since Mischa. He had glanced them before, when he thought Will was dead. But the biggest emotion he felt at the time was anger. But he couldn't bring himself to be angry right now. Not with Will in front of him and the severe lack of response to his touch. Hannibal wanted to scream. To yell. To murder someone to give Will whatever he needed. But he could do nothing.

This was helplessness. And he hated it.

Somehow, he fell asleep. When he woke, his hands still grasped Will's. His back ached from the chair and his neck was stiff, but it wasn't something he cared about. Will didn't move an inch. His hand was still in Hannibal's, he was in the same position. He ran his thumb over the back of Will's hand. He was clammy. 

One of the things Hannibal had debated about since he met Will was the depth of his feelings for him. He knew he was infatuated with him, obsessed even, from the first moment they met. But he had long suspected that his feelings toward Will had shifted into love. He remembered his anger at what he thought was Will's death. He remembered the relief he felt at seeing him alive. he remembered the soul-sucking emptiness when the other was in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. And now. 

The doctor for the day came into the room after a soft knock.

"Good morning," He greeted. Hannibal greeted him in return. "The nurses tell me you've been here all night. Won't leave his side." 

The doctor flipped through Will's chart. 

"No," Hannibal said finally, looking back at Will once again. 

"He's lucky to have you." 

The doctor assumed he and Will were in a romantic relationship and Hannibal didn't feel the need to correct him. 

He watched as the other man went through a check-up of Will. Hannibal noted the frowns on the man's face at Will's apparent lack of change in state.

"We'll keep an eye on him. He made it through the night so hopefully, he's out of the woods." 

Hannibal nodded, tightening his grip on Will's hand. 

By midday, he was finally persuaded to go home. Mostly for a shower. He smelled like the hospital, a smell he could never forget. He showered, dressed, and grabbed a bag to fill with some additional clothes. He didn't know how long he would be staying at the hospital, but if it was over another night, he didn't intend to return home. He had already been gone long enough. The drive back to the hospital took forever and Hannibal debated more than once about killing another driver if they cut him off again. He made it to the hospital with no dead bodies behind him, but it was a struggle. When he arrived, however, his stress level was upped once more. He heard the distinct announcement of a code blue.

In Will's room.

Hannibal practically ran. And he never ran. 

Alana was standing outside his room, shaking. As soon as Hannibal appeared she launched herself at him, crying and grasping his jacket. He did his best to look over the heads of the doctors in the room. 

"He-he just stopped breathing." Alana sobbed. 

Hannibal held her close, mostly to have something to do with his hands. Eventually, the heart monitor restabilized, and those in the room gave a collective sigh of relief. They shuffled from the room one at a time, talking amongst themselves. The doctor Hannibal saw earlier in the day stopped in front of them, pulling off his gloves.

"We've managed to stabilize him. His heart rate and breathing are back to normal." He was addressing Hannibal specifically. "But if that happens again-" He trailed off.

"I know." And he did.

He had been a part of several codes when he worked in the emergency room. It was always a race been the ER and ICU to see who reached a code first. Almost always he was left with nothing to do when there was a code on the floors. ICU was closer. But he knew what happened when someone coded too many times. From what he was able to glean from the glances at Will's chart he'd had, this wasn't Will's first time coding. 

Hannibal and Alana walked back into the room and he reclaimed the seat he'd had once before. This time, he didn't care if Alana saw him grasp Will's hand. He just did it. There was no response. 

A few hours later, Jack arrived. Alana had returned home to check on Will's dogs. Hannibal promised to let her know if anything happened. Jack, however, was much angrier than Alana had been. Hannibal knew it the moment the other entered the room. His eyes were bloodshot, suggesting he didn't have much sleep. Jack was going to pick a fight and Hannibal knew it before it ever happened. When the other tried, saying that Hannibal didn't need to be there, he finally let go of Will's hand. And Will's heart rate began to speed. 

Both of them turned to look at the other lying on the bed.

"Hannibal," He breathed. 

"Will." He completely ignored Jack, turning his attention entirely to Will. He grasped the other's hand once more and his heart rate began to slow again. 

Jack didn't say anything else and a few moments later, he was gone. Hannibal reached forward and ran his hand through the other's hair. Will moved then, his head shifting against Hannibal's hand. He never felt so relieved.

* * *

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die. It was an assessment Will was both ready to agree and disagree with. His life did flash before his eyes, twice in fact. And both times the majority of it was about Hannibal. His life had existed before Hannibal Lecter, but his brain didn't seem to agree. Every other image had Hannibal in it, including one rather embarrassing dream he'd previously had regarding the man. His memories focused on specific things about Hannibal. One was only the way he licked his lips. Another was the conversation he and Hannibal had regarding his mental health when Will had felt compelled to stretch up the length of the ladder he leaned on. Another was the feel of his hands on his own. Over and over memories of Hannibal Lecter flooded him until it was all he saw. 

For a brief, terrifying moment, Hannibal began to fade away from him just as he had before. Will reached for him, tried to call for him, but his voice didn't work. He only managed one word. Hannibal's name. 

"Will." 

And suddenly he was alive again. He didn't know how long he had been unconscious, or what had transpired as he was. He only knew that when he woke up, he felt another hand in his own. He blinked into the dark room, his eyes adjusting. The heart monitor above him beeped with his heartbeat. As his eyes adjusted he saw that the hand in his own belonged to Hannibal. And his heart clenched.

He was in love with Hannibal Lecter. 

The other was sitting awkwardly in his chair, slumped one direction with his head pillowed on his shoulder. He looked surprisingly innocent considering everything that Will knew. Part of him argued that he couldn't be in love with him, not after everything Hannibal had done to him. Not after everything he had taken. But as he found himself looking over the other's face, the arguments seemed to mean nothing. 

He squeezed the other's hand lightly and suddenly Hannibal's eyes opened. 

He blinked shifting in his chair but keeping their hands linked. 

"You're awake," Hannibal said quietly. Will repressed a shudder at his voice. 

"Yes," He said, his voice cracking even with one word. 

Hannibal shifted in his chair, leaning forward and pulling Will's hand up slightly. 

"I was worried." He said quietly. He pressed Will's hand against his cheek and for a moment, the heart monitor jumped. 

"I'm not that easy to get rid of." 

Hannibal smiled slightly. "I know." His eyes searched Will's for a moment before he grasped Will's hand between both of his own. "Forgive me, Will." His voice was tenser than Will ever could have imagined. 

"Forgive you?" Will asked. 

"Abigail," He said quietly. "She's alive." 

Will's mind flew. 

"Forgive me." 

He swallowed thickly. "I've been aiding an investigation against you." 

"I know," Hannibal answered quietly.

"Forgive me." 

"In a heartbeat." 

He tugged as best he could against Hannibal's hand and the other moved closer. "I forgive you." 

Hannibal let out a relieved breath and shifted closer. 

"If I told you that I knew I was in love with you, how would you respond?" The words were whispered into the space between them. 

Will's heart jumped again and Hannibal smirked at the monitor. "I would say I'm in love with you." 

The other stood and leaned over the bed, pressing his hand against Will's hair. The movement felt familiar, but he wasn't certain why. Hannibal leaned closer, their lips meeting. He hummed into the kiss, feeling something he never felt before.

Content. He was free.


	2. Chapter 2

Will wasn't use to having someone else take care of him. When he had encephalitis, he took care of himself. When he was shot, he took care of himself. Even when he was stabbed those years ago, he took care of himself. It was odd that someone wanted to take care of him now. Hannibal barely left his side the weekend he was in the hospital. He was kept on observation for a few days, owing to the fact that he had apparently nearly died twice. But by Sunday, he was allowed to go home, or so the hospital said. Hannibal, however, was far more stubborn than the hospital. He insisted that when Will was released, he was released into Hannibal's care.

Will groaned as he sat down into Hannibal's car, something much lower than he would have liked. Hannibal half lowered him into the car. The drive to Baltimore took forever. Will's abdomen started to ache from sitting upright as long as he had. When they arrived, Hannibal moved quicker than Will expected, moving to the other side of the car to help Will stand. Will swayed against him, his hand clenching Hannibal's. His back pressed against the other's chest, their hands locked together. The other gripped his hip and the two stood there silently until Will's vision was no longer spotted with white. Hannibal didn't let him go though and Will turned his head slightly to find Hannibal staring at him over his shoulder, his brows furrowed in worry. 

"I'm all right, Hannibal." He whispered. 

But Hannibal didn't seem to believe him. For a second, Will thought Hannibal might carry him into the house. But Hannibal only squeezed his hip and began walking them slowly toward the front door. Hannibal only let go of his hand to unlock it before quickly reclaiming it and pulling them into the house in tandem. The door was shut with the hand that had rested on Will's hip before he reclaimed that yet again. They moved through Hannibal's house, a place Will already had memorized as he had his own. It took what felt like an eternity to travel up the stairs, but Hannibal stayed at Will's side the whole time, helping with every movement. 

Will thought he would be brought to one of the guest bedrooms, but instead, Hannibal guided him toward what was clearly the master bedroom. Will opened his mouth to protest, but Hannibal cut him off with a look. He lowered himself to the edge of the bed while Hannibal spoke, though he couldn't quite hear it. He caught bits and pieces. Hannibal had packed a bag for him, some clothes from Will's house. His dogs were being taken care of by Alana. His only responsibility was to heal. And already Will knew he was going to go stir crazy. But he didn't say anything. He didn't want to seem ungrateful. With Hannibal's help, he readjusted in the bed. Something flashed in the other's eyes as he moved away before he told Will he would be gone for a few minutes to fill his medications.

He didn't quite remember dosing off until he felt a warm hand on his arm. He blinked awake, finding the other hovering just above him. His brows were furrowed again, a thoughtful look on his face. But the look vanished quickly as he helped Will readjust once again to take his medications. 

"Are you hungry?" Hannibal asked. 

"I could eat."

He wasn't hungry. But Hannibal wasn't going to let him get away with his usual self-neglect. The other nodded slightly, his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he left the room once again. Will could hear him moving around in the kitchen, an oddly comforting sound. He wasn't certain how long it was that Hannibal took to prepare the meal, but he did know that his pain meds had started to kick in. And what a relief that was. He managed to pull himself from the bed and walk carefully to the stairs.

It took longer to move down them than it had to move up them, especially alone, but Will managed. He wasn't completely incompetent. By the time he reached the kitchen, however, he couldn't help but feel slightly winded. Why, oh why, did he have to be shot in the abdomen. The leg, the arm, his already injured shoulder. These were places he could have been shot and it would be easy to carry on during the day. But the abdomen was the worst. So much could go wrong with an abdominal injury. There were so many organs and arteries and veins in the abdomen that any injury was a serious one.

Hannibal's eyes shot to him the moment he entered the kitchen. He didn't say anything, but his eyes dropped to where Will was subconsciously guarding his abdomen with his hand. 

"What are you making?" Will asked as he shuffled forward. 

Hannibal's lips twitched slightly. "Nothing heavy."

He gestured for Will to come closer, which he did. Hannibal pulled a spoon from one of the drawers and dipped it carefully into what Will thought was soup before holding it up for Will. He didn't let him take the spoon but rather fed him. Will hummed as a million flavors washed over his tongue. Hospital food was disgusting, especially the soup. But Hannibal's was delicious. He watched Hannibal smirk slightly, pleased at Will's nonverbal assessment. 

"Can I help?" He asked, suddenly feeling twitchy. 

Hannibal looked over him. "No." 

He tapped his fingers on the counter, suddenly aware of how close he was to the other, and how awkward he felt at the sudden proximity. It wasn't like they hadn't been this close before. And it wasn't as though they weren't close in other ways. His eyes drifted to the dining room table where Hannibal had bandaged Will's hand only a few days before. 

_Stay with me._

_Where else would I go?_

"Will," Hannibal's incredibly soft voice broke through his memories. He turned, looking at the other man. "It's ready. Come."

Hannibal led them into the dining room. Will carefully lowered himself into the chair. Hannibal sat at his side, seemingly unable to force himself to move away. He didn't mind. Dinner was silent, the two of them having already said everything that needed to be said. 

His mind brought him back to the night he woke in the hospital, the confessions shared between them, and the kiss that followed. It was a chaste kiss, soft. Yet it said more than words ever could. He thought about Hannibal's face when he woke. He thought about the way Hannibal had pressed Will's hand against his cheek, about the tender way he held him as though he might break.

"What do you need, Will?" Hannibal asked, dragging him back to reality.

They were in the kitchen now, meal finished and dishes cleaned. He evaluated the other. Hannibal evaluated him in return, sensing something but not pushing him. He would never push him. Not this way.

"Do you remember that night?"

"Yes."

He shuffled closer, pain and discomfort all but forgotten. Hannibal didn't move until Will was practically on top of him. One hand moved to press against his hip, a spot which had felt cold since Hannibal let it go earlier that day, and the other pressed against his cheek, thumb running over his cheekbone. Their lips met and this time, Will felt more with this kiss. He wasn't lying when he said he was in love with Hannibal. But only now, with this kiss, could he truly feel that Hannibal was in love with him too. There were a million emotions in that kiss as he pressed closer to the other. When they finally pulled apart, Will buried his face in the crook of Hannibal's neck, holding him and enjoying being held in return. Hannibal was far better at expressing his emotions, but Will could show him in other ways. 

Hannibal did carry him into the bedroom that time.

Over the next week, they fell into a routine. He and Hannibal shared the bed in his room. Hannibal would wake before he did and ready himself for the day. When Will woke, he would find breakfast waiting for him and Hannibal, rather reluctantly, would go to work. Over the day, Will pushed himself, probably too hard, to become self-sufficient. At night, Hannibal would return and find something done. Cleaning, an attempt at cooking, something that Will had tried over the day in an attempt to speed up his healing. Night would be spent in the study, talking about something. Mostly it was nonsense but they could talk circles around God if they wanted. Then they would turn in for bed. By the second night, Will had built up the courage to grasp Hannibal's hand in the space between them in the bed, and he would find himself falling asleep still holding him. 

After a week, he felt better. He didn't have his full range of motion yet, bending was still hard. But his pain had decreased somewhat, enough that he decreased the pain meds he was taking. Hannibal monitored him closely, making certain he took the other required meds. He had a habit of stopping his meds too early and Hannibal wasn't going to allow that this time.

By the night of the seventh day spent at Hannibal's, he was growing restless. And Hannibal could sense it. 

He had spent most of the time while Hannibal prepared dinner pacing around the study. He needed something. But he didn't know what. 

He was practically vibrating out of his seat at dinner, though Hannibal remained ever calm. That just frustrated him more. How could Hannibal be so goddamned calm? 

Everything seemed to grate on his nerves until he finally felt he was going to explode. After dinner, he paced the entirety of the house, aching for something. Hannibal glanced up at him every time he came and left the kitchen and then again when he moved to the study. But Will couldn't stay still. He tried though, he really did. He stared at the titles on the bookshelves, hoping that maybe one would jump out at him and he could stop moving. But they didn't. He looked at Hannibal's drawings. He thought about attempting the harpsichord. He was going mad. That was the problem. He had finally gone insane. A gunshot and recovery and he had finally gone mad. That had to be it. He paced out of the room and back into it. Hannibal watched him as he reentered the room, circling it and then leaving again. He thought for a brief moment that Hannibal might kill him for his sudden need to move, but the other just watched him until he left the room. 

Round and round he went. Up and down the stairs. He had seen every room in the house. Hell, he even found his way into the basement, which was an area he had avoided over the week. It should have bothered him, seeing the darkest parts of Hannibal manifested in reality, but instead, it just made him more frustrated. He paced back up the stairs and around the kitchen once more. If he had been at his own house, he would have opened the refrigerator about ten times by now, staring inside before moving again. Or maybe he would open cabinets and drawers only to shut them again seconds later. But he didn't. He just paced around the rooms again. 

That was until he reentered the study for what felt like the millionth time only to run right into Hannibal. The other clasped his face between his hands, holding him in place. 

"What do you need, Will?"

He lunged forward, their lips crashing together far less gentle than he meant to. But Hannibal allowed it, pulling him against him with equal fervor. 

Oh.

_Oh._

This was what he needed. Hannibal's arms wrapped around him, holding him close. He mirrored him, pressing their bodies closer together. He needed the touch. He needed intimacy. He needed. Hannibal stroked over his back, his touch as worshipful as his kisses. He hadn't truly realized how touch starved he was until he received the small, glancing touches from Hannibal. Until he shared chaste kisses and stolen moments holding hands at night. Hannibal's hands moved everywhere, often returning to his face and into his hair. He leaned in to the other, taking as much comfort as Hannibal was willing to give. 

Closer. He needed to be closer.

He didn't know how they moved through the house until he was suddenly being pressed against soft, familiar sheets. Hannibal hovered over him, still pressing soft, worshipful kisses against his mouth. 

"Hannibal, please." He said between kisses. 

When had tears sprung to his eyes?

He wasn't certain Hannibal was capable of denying him at this point, as the other lowered himself until they were pressed together. He was wary of Will's abdomen, but Will didn't care. He pressed him closer, elated at the touch. 

Hannibal trailed the same worshipful kisses over his face, his neck. He unbuttoned Will's shirt and trailed them over his shoulders and chest. He pulled his shirt from him in the space Hannibal gave him, before moving to the other's clothes. Hannibal let him, amber gaze trailing over his face over and over again. He sighed contently when skin pressed against skin. He wrapped the other in his arms, feeling his heart hammering in his chest, echoed by Hannibal's. His mouth traveled over his arms, to his hands. He kissed everywhere he could reach. Will let his hands roam, touching every bit of Hannibal he could reach. Through soft hair, over hard muscles. He needed. He needed. 

The other trailed downward, pressing kisses against his abdomen. He was gentle, so gentle with Will, that he thought he might lose it. He was aching in all the worst ways and with every kiss Hannibal pushed it away, replacing it with something else that ached just as much but in a different way. His lips grazed over the wounds in Will's abdomen. 

Will felt himself letting out a litany of pleas, but he didn't know what he pleaded for. He was just pleading for Hannibal, for something only Hannibal could give him. 

Tears were flowing freely now, the emotions Will had tried so hard to repress finding their way to the surface. Hannibal's lips returned to his own once again, his hands wiping away hot tears and the pain with it. Hannibal's love was all-consuming, and he wanted to drown in it. 

Closer. He needed closer.

How the other knew what he needed, he didn't know. But eventually, they were pressed skin to skin, with nothing between them. 

Will's eyes trailed over him, taking in everything that Hannibal offered. 

No god could have made him. Hannibal himself must have somehow created him before birth, molding himself into the beautiful darkness that now held Will close, embracing even the worst parts of him as Will embraced his. There was darkness and there was light and Hannibal was both. And that meant everything to Will. 

He didn't even realize he was hard until the other's length brushed against him and he shuddered. 

"Let me take care of you," Hannibal whispered against his lips.

Will nodded, not trusting his voice. He just wanted Hannibal and whatever Hannibal would give him. He would give anything in return, he had given everything. He had given himself, all that he was, into the hands of the beautiful darkness wrapped in human flesh that was Hannibal Lecter.

When Hannibal's lips wrapped around him, Will immediately noticed how different it was from the past. He had given and received oral sex before, but it was always messy, sloppy, animalistic. But this was just as worshipful as every other touch and kiss Hannibal had given him this night. He was dragging things from Will, just as he had once before with the encephalitis and other rather unorthodox treatments. He was never content to let Will be, he wanted more. Only now, Will was willing to give it. 

Will was lost in the space somewhere between him and Hannibal. He was lost in touches and pleasure. He was lost in intimacy and the sudden feeling that he mattered. He mattered to someone. Someone who had stayed at his bedside when his life nearly slipped away. Someone who worried over him. Someone who stayed at his side during the night. Someone who saw him, all of him. He mattered to Hannibal. 

He wanted to pull Hannibal back up to him to pull him closer and lose himself in him. But Hannibal was lost in something else. He was clinging to Will, his mouth pulling sinful pleasure from Will's body. He was already somewhat aware of Hannibal's oral fixation. He only now understood the depth of it. Or maybe this was something else for Hannibal. 

Will's body was reacting of its own accord, aching up into Hannibal even though Hannibal held him in place. He didn't know how long they were like that, with Hannibal settled between his legs and Will twitching above him, though he was certain he had already come at least once. But he was so lost that the oversensitivity didn't bother him. Because it was Hannibal. 

He barely even noticed when the stimulation became two-fold, Hannibal having pressed a digit inside him. He only knew that suddenly he was shaking with something much worse than pleasure. Was this what it was like to be worshipped by Hannibal Lecter?

When Hannibal finally moved back up the bed, Will's arms wrapped around him, holding him close. He wasn't certain he could ever let him go again. He couldn't bear it. He buried his face into Hannibal's neck once again, feeling Hannibal adjust him to pull him into his arms. When Hannibal pushed inside him, he shuddered again. He was lost. He lost himself in Hannibal Lecter. He was the Chesapeake Ripper. He was a cannibal. He was described as the devil. And if he was the devil, he was Will's devil. He was his monster to love and worship just as Hannibal worshipper him. 

They were a tangle of limbs joined together. Skin against skin. 

"I love you," He whispered against Hannibal's shoulder. He peppered kisses against his skin, hearing the litany of 'I love yous' echoed back at him.

They were lost in each other. It wasn't about the pleasure they gave and took from each other, though Will had to admit it was by far the most pleasure-filled experience he'd ever had. It was something more. Their foreheads pressed together.

"Don't leave me." Will practically begged.

"I won't. Never." Hannibal promised.

Their lips met again. 

He never realized he needed someone as much as he did now. He never realized the person he needed was Hannibal. But they had found each other. And they were lost in each other. He knew Hannibal was lost in him, he could feel it. He could feel it in the arms wrapped under him. He could feel it in the worshipful kisses. He could feel it in the intensity of his beating heart. 

They were each other's. Not even God could tear them apart.

He was lost to the devil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to come yell at me on tumblr at [NeuroWriter14](https://neurowriter14.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come yell at me on [Tumblr](https://neurowriter14.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/NWriter14)


End file.
